King & Country
by maonsie
Summary: Imperial AU. Times have changed, its nearly autumn. Kings have risen, and they have fallen. What lies in waiting, there's no abating. The past can never be forgotten.


_Prologue_

The snow had been falling harder as they made their way further north of Fort Black. There were nearly six in their tiny scouting company, sent to range along the north most markers for anything suspicious. Only Mann knew what that could have possibly entailed. For the first few weeks, they hadn't come across much of anything. Only the tall fir trees that filled the landscape seemed to keep the band of crows company, with the occasional croaking of a crow, or chirp of a smaller bird.

"This is all rubbish," the tall, brute of a man, Gregory, said from the rear of the group. He had to be given a special horse, something large enough to support him. A greatsword rested in the sheathe on his back, making him look even more imposing. "There ain't nothing out here but snow, and trees. That what we looking for?"

"I've gotta agree with Gregory," James said, rubbing his hands together. It had grown much colder the past few days, but the captain of the little company, Mann, had reasoned it was just the winter coming on. It was like to get far colder as the time went on. James was one of the younger recruits that Mann had brought along. It would be good to get some experience out here beyond the Wall. Far more than General Allister was willing to give recruits like James in shorter patrols.

Plus, Mann liked to hear what the younger recruits thought. Some back at the Wall had told him some incredible things about the south. It had changed much since he'd left nearly thirty years ago. "Why do you agree, James?"

"Well, I've heard some of the men in the barracks talking. They say that the, well, the Others were destroyed a long time ago. Nearly three hundred years ago," James said, cautiously mentioning the Others. He quickly added, "And we're well off the track of wildlings. So..."

He let his statement hang in the air.

"So?" Mann asked, still pushing the boy.

Katherine, the sharpshooter for the company answered in his stead. She was one of the few women that Man had encountered while in his years in the Night's Watch. He knew that the Watch had once consisted only of men, but that part of the creed had changed somewhat since the old days, especially during the Great War. The need for soldiers outweighed tradition. "We're not tracking wildlings - so what are we tracking?"

There was no sense in lying to any of them. Mann took a deep breath and then turned his horse around. "A few months ago, on another ranging, Ser Terrence and a company of rangers found a party of wildlings this far out of their territory. Only, all of them were dead. Massacred. And something did it, something we don't know about. So we're out here to find whatever, or whoever, did this."

Everyone had grown quiet at Mann's answer, even Gregory, who would usually try and find some bleak humour out of it. The Captain continued, "I don't like it any more than any of you, but Lord Damien chose me, and I chose all of you. Now come on, we'll make camp here."

. . .

They'd set up a simple campsite, horses all tied to a larger central tree. A firepit was set up, covered by some of the larger roots. Gave it plenty of space to flame, which was necessary. The fires hadn't grown very much in the recent days either. It was enough of a fire for Trevor to throw some croneys on; the first cooked meat they'd had a chance to eat in days.

"This is good," Gregory said, biting deep into one of the legs. He washed it down with a swig of rum from his metal flask. "Makes me hungry for something else." He looked at Katherine lustfully, more like an animal than anything else. Mann watched carefully, ready to act should the brute be stupid enough to try something. He was a trustworthy bloke and a good sword, but that didn't make him a good man.

But the sharpshooter only shook it off, being smart enough to know that Gregory was being a fool. "With courtesy like that, it's no wonder the Watch used to be for men only."

"Little girl like you couldn't handle a man like me anyway."

Fredrick spoke up, putting his own bowl down, "Watch yourself Greg'ry. She's got an eye, that she does. Knows how to shoot."

Gregory let out a roar of a laugh, "Bollocks. I ain't never seen 'er shoot." Mann saw the fire in the woman's eyes, and waited to see how she reacted. All she simply did was pick her musket up, modified with a few choice enhancements, and climbed off the ground.

"Care to wager then," she said, standing in front of him. He had a cheeky grin on his face as he thought about her offer. Mann half expected him to say the worst.

"You hit me flask on," Gregory stood up and pointed at a gnarled tree a ways off, barely visible in the moonlight, "that bit o' tree there, and I'll eat me glove and you can call me a fool. When you miss though-"

"I won't miss," Katherine said, brushing off the end of her rifled musket.

The brute stood up though, towering over her. He bent down, breathing heavily in her face by the looks of it and said, "When you miss - well, 've always wanted to see how a Northern girl fucks." Mann rolled his eyes at the display. Katherine gave him a look, and he nodded.

"Alright, one shot," he said, taking the flask from Gregory and moving over to the tree. It was a ways off from the camp, and he could feel it getting much colder the further he walked from the fire. Mann knew that this distance was that much of a challenge for her, but with it being rather dark, he did give a moment's thought to her missing. He shook the thought from his mind though.

He'd set the flask up and came back over by the fire. All of the men had formed a little half-circle behind Katherine; she herself standing with the rifle at her side. Mann took his seat on one of the roots and watched. She picked the rifle up, holding it and breathing. Slowly, she brought it up to a firing position, and Mann could see her concentrating carefully, adjusting the barrel.

It all happened quickly. Mann saw her pull the trigger and heard the sound of the rifle fire. Gregory came close to laughing but then there was one more sound - the small sound of metal hitting metal. The look on the brute's face told it all. Katherine had hit the flask dead on, and she turned and gave a small little bow.

A wide smile was on James' face, the boy obviously infatuated with what he had saw. Mann shook his own head at that, laughing. "I believe we can all," the captain started and gave Gregory a long, hard look, "say that was a bloody good shot. Now, Gregory, you and Fredrick can take first watch."

"Aye captain," both men said in unison, Gregory a bit sullen. The rest of the company got to setting sleeping spots up. It was going to be a long, cold night.

. . .

Mann awoke to nudging on his arm. "Captain," Katherine said, face flushed with panic. Mann was still groggy though, and the woman pulled on his tunic again. "Mann, you need to see this. Now." Something about the tone of her voice made the man from the southeast get up quickly, pulling his gauntlets on as they moved out of the campsite a bit.

"Good to see you stayed at camp for watch duty," Mann said sarcastically, still shaking the feeling of sleep out of his eyes. It was early enough that the sun had only just risen.

"I know, but I went exploring a bit, and I found something." She guided Mann towards a grove of trees. All of them were old, but there was something else peculiar about them. They were Weirwoods. But not a solitary tree, as Mann had seen many of those; this was an entire ring of them, all of them pale and white in fleshy bark. The sap as dark a crimson as blood oozing out of their face-like carvings. "Look in the centre," she said, crouching down with her rifle comfortably positioned between her arms.

The captain looked, trying to see what she was referring to. "Kat, I don't-" he started before stopping. There was something there, something laying in the centre. It looked to be made of stone, but ruined, as though robbed long ago. And the placement of the trees around it seemed rather obvious. The reasoning hit him quickly. "A grave site," he said softly, crouching down next to the sharpshooter.

"For what?"

Mann couldn't answer. There was yelling coming from the direction of camp. Both of the Night's Watch ran towards the sounds, coming across James. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Panting, James started speaking, "Something's out there." The boy pointed in the direction of the camp, and all three of them ran towards it, finding all of the company awake, standing at the northern side of the camp. The horses were all kicking and stamping, further confirming what James had told them.

"Have we seen any more?" Mann asked, grabbing his belt from his own horse. The feel of the flintlock pistol at his belt brought him far more courage than he cared to admit.

It was Gregory that spoke, the greatsword sheathed at his back. "It looked like a person."

"A person?"

The man nodded, turning back towards the open area between the trees. There were a million places that whatever it was could hide out there. All Mann could do was have his men bunker down where they were, many of them with muskets at the ready. The roots and embankments of snow gave them a rather natural defensive position. Knowing that he needed to be in a position to command, the captain jumped onto his own courser, bringing her to heel. She quieted down at Mann's touch.

. . .

It had been some time that Mann had everyone stay in their defensive position. After nearly an hour had passed, he saw something stepping from out of the treeline. "Hold," said Mann, raising his hand. The others in the company tensed for a moment, apprehensive after being in position for so long in the quiet. Mann drew the sabre from its sheathe at his waist; the sound of it cut through the air.

Through the mist, a figure was coming closer and closer, shambling towards them. "Hold!" Mann yelled out into the clearing. Whatever it was, it didn't stop, only moved closer towards their campsite. It wasn't until it hit the end of the mist that it finally stopped moving. But even from here, Mann could see how short it was. It looked to be no more than a child. Something was terribly wrong. Another of the horses kicked it legs up, breaking the rope tying it to the tree. It bolted, trampling over twigs and branches.

The sounds had roused another figure from the treeline, this one much taller. It shambled over like the first, only, it kept going. A crude axe was being dragged behind it. From his mounted position, Mann yelled, "In the name of his majesty, and the authority granted upon us, identify yourself."

More figures poured out of the treeline, and finally Mann gave the order. "Rank, aim!" His brothers and sister of the Watch all had muskets at the ready. Gregory drew the greatsword from its sheathe, holding it out.

"I will say this once more! Hold!" Mann yelled, allowing whatever they were one last chance to stop. His words were hollow to them though, for they simply continued marching forward. With the sabre held up, Mann brought it sweeping down. "Fire!"

Even with their small number, the sound of the muskets firing was deafeningly loud in the quietude of the forest. And smoke filled the air in response. His men reloaded quickly, and in no time, they were ready for a second volley. Once the smoke cleared though, Mann's heart sank. They were still coming at the Night's Watch, unparsed by the musket-fire tearing limbs apart. Heads and arms and legs were gone, yet they still marched on.

Mann turned his horse around and saw that more had come from the direction of the grove. Surrounded on all sides by these undying men, the Night's Watch formed a circle around the horses. Mann had to make a decision. With his horse being the fastest of them there, he dismounted it. All around him, his brothers and his sister looked to him. "Katherine, take James and my horse. Ride for Fort Black. Tell them what's happened."

Katherine was already shaking her head, "No! You're my brothers. I won't run and let you die."

Before Mann could speak, Gregory did, the sounds muffled by the black steel great-helm encasing his head. "Our captain's 'ight. You don't die this day, sister." There was emotion there, and for a moment, Mann was afraid that Katherine would cry. Instead, the sharpshooter took a long breath, and nodded, climbing onto the horse. James climbed on behind her. The undying had come closer, and the two had to leave.

"Go," Mann said. "We'll hold them here."

It was a lie, and they all knew it. But Katherine merely nodded, and quickly, the two of them rode off south, in the direction of the Wall. They had to ride fast, and he could only hope that no trouble came upon their journey. "Brothers," Mann started as he climbed onto another of the horses. It felt strange beneath him; it was not his horse, but a few kicks kept it steady. "For the Watch!" He rose his sabre into the air, the horse kicking up with him. A slight moment of pride filled Mann at seeing his men cheer alongside him.

All around him, the men formed a much smaller defensive circle. And with bayonets mounted, they waited as the undying moved ever closer to them. By now, Mann could see that their ranks were made up of more than just wildlings. Men and women long dead stood with them. He could see shields belonging to the noble houses of the North, the wood rotted away and the iron rusted long ago. But still, they marched on in utter silence.

There was something else at the far end of the clearing, just in front of the trees. Even from this distance, Mann could see the two piercing blue eyes staring back at him. He felt his chest tighten, but shook himself of the feeling. Daring to stare back, he saw the new figure still there, but its gaze had moved elsewhere. The undying had almost come upon the company and now, Mann knew it was time. "Fight them brothers! Fight!"

With cries of "For the Watch!" and "Honour in death!" the brothers of the Night's Watch charged at the centre of the mass of the undying. The sheer force of the company led to some success, as Mann watched Gregory decimate more than a half-dozen of the undying, separating limb from limb from limb. Fredrick had wrought havoc on one of them with his musket, blasting the face off. Though it mattered little as another had brought him down from behind.

In a few minutes, it was over. All around him, Mann watched as his brothers fell to the undying. Still, he rode on, making for whatever manner of beast had commanded them. Mann even gained on it, swinging his sabre and cutting through flesh and bone.

Something happened though and in the midst of the undying, he was thrown violently from his own horse. Mann was left laying upon a mound of snow surrounded by them, but his sabre was still held up. "Finish it!" he yelled into the silence of the horde. "Finish it you bastards!" There was no reply from the assailants. Only the soft blow of wind across the his face. The pain in his right leg was becoming increasingly unbearable when he heard a soft growl coming from his front.

Raising himself to see, he could feel the tendons in the back of his leg give way. Blood was rushing from the wound onto the snow, warm and running down his trousers. He hadn't given prayer to the Seven since he was a little boy, but in this moment, as he saw the beast approaching him, a small prayer from to the Father escaped his lips.

Sat upon the wolf-beast was the figure from the other side of the clearing, with skin a rotting and pale blue, and eyes as piercing blue as a sapphires. It raised one of its long, spindly hands, and Mann could feel himself losing consciousness, losing all feeling in his legs first.

It slowly worked its way up his body, but in those final moments, he could see his home again. That small farmhouse in the Southeast, on the banks of Storm Bay. In the mornings, his mum making the most delicious gruel in all the Seven Kingdoms. Or the days he was running around with his little brother, or teasing his sister. Growing up and working in the fields with his father. A tiny smile came to his lips as he thought of leaving his home with the Night's Watch recruiter on his nineteenth birthday. His father, tears in his eyes, but with a strong sense of pride for seeing his son leaving for something they had believed to be noble. For something that Mann had learned was more noble than anything else he'd ever known.

And now, as he felt it work up even further and further, he wondered if he'd meet them again in the beyond. The smile on his face grew as Mann threw away his worry and saw them both standing in front of him. As to whether or not they were real didn't matter — he allowed himself to reach out for his father's outstretched hand. Just as he was about to take hold of it though, the creature appeared between his parents. Those eyes pierced his very soul. Mann fought to reach his father's hand, and as he grasped it, his father's form morphed and took on the visage of the Stranger; or what Mann assumed to be the God of Death itself. But it had taken his hand, and in that moment, the creature with its piercing blue eyes could do nothing. The captain of the Watch let out his last breath and felt as everything went cold.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: This is a different _Game of Thrones_. The rules have changed. And the world is much smaller.

As always, leave a review, or comment, they mean a lot. But most importantly, enjoy the story. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, etc from the universe of George R.R Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series or HBO's Game of Thrones. I write this for myself and the enjoyment of others.


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